


One More Day

by Independence1776



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Force Ghosts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-17
Updated: 2008-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3113852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Independence1776/pseuds/Independence1776
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon's thoughts toward Obi-Wan at his own funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Day

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the boards.theforce.net’s Country Music Roulette Challenge in early 2008. My song was Diamond Rio’s “One More Day.”

_One more day_  
 _One more time_  
 _One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied_  
 _But then again_  
 _I know what it would do_  
 _Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you_  
 _~ Diamond Rio, One More Day_  
  
  
Qui-Gon hovered unseen in the midst of the crowd surrounding the funeral pyre. It was a trifle unnerving to see his own body burning, and not feel anything. But he was dead, a part of the Force, and yet still his own self.  
  
In fact, he hadn’t even been sure the technique would work. The theory was sound, but there was no way to actually  _practise_  it. He had to trust in the Force, and that had never been a problem for him. Now, he was a ghost, for lack of a better term. No one could see him, and he had yet to find out if he could affect the material world. He didn’t even know if anyone could replicate what he did. It was just too soon to know.  
  
He moved closer, to where Obi-Wan and Anakin were standing. Qui-Gon frowned, noticing the space between them. He could only hope that his apprentice would train the boy. If he couldn’t, all was lost. He saw Anakin turn to the older man and ask something. Obi-Wan replied back, and Qui-Gon frowned, frustrated, wanting to know what was going on. Anakin relaxed slightly, though, so maybe, hopefully, Obi-Wan would train him.  
  
After the funeral was over and the pair was back in their suite, and Anakin was soundly asleep, Obi-Wan sat down on a couch in the main room. He closed his eyes and rubbed them. His master longed to sit next to him, to comfort him, to reassure him that all was well. But Qui-Gon couldn’t. He was dead, and that was the problem.  
  
The entire problem. He hadn’t had time to tell Obi-Wan how much he cared for him, how much the reluctant master had come to depend on his apprentice. Obi-Wan was his son, no matter what the Council felt about attachments. They were unavoidable, and they had to be properly managed. But they weren’t inherently wrong. That was the road to disaster, for to deny attachment was to deny life. And he had missed the opportunity to tell Obi-Wan this.  
  
Obi-Wan leaned forward, shoulders shaking. Qui-Gon moved in front of him, and saw tears falling off his chin. Oh, Padawan.  _If only I had been able to tell you. If I only had one more day..._  
  
But he didn’t. And Obi-Wan would never know what he had meant to him. He followed the grief-stricken young man into his sleeping chamber and stood next to him as he fell asleep. Once he was deeply asleep, Qui-Gon stretched out his hand and gently stroked his cheek, not able to feel anything beyond Obi-Wan’s warmth in the Force. He removed his hand, and straightened up.  
  
 _Obi-Wan, I promise you. One day, I will find a way to tell you what you mean to me. One day, I will tell you how much I love you. But for now, farewell, my Padawan._


End file.
